Iron Fic: Aleatory in the Astronomy Tower
by The Chairman
Summary: Contestants were given 24 hours to write 1500 words based on a random ship. The ship was to be the central focus of the story. For this contest, the random ship was Sirius/Arabella Figg.
1. Godfatherly Duties

**Godfatherly Duties**

Harry stared around the slightly cramped kitchen, relishing the rare moment of relaxation. These people—his best friends, the Order, the Weasleys, his newly-pardoned godfather—had helped him make it to this point. His seventeenth freaking birthday. As he watched his best friend argue with Tonks over the merits of different butterbeer brands, he realized that no matter how much he missed his parents, he couldn't deny that he had one hell of a family. He wanted this moment to last forever, but as Sirius looked up at him, he knew it wouldn't. He was about to be sent to bed, like a good little boy—

"Harry, could I have a word with you in the garden?" Sirius asked.

Or maybe not.

"Sure, Sirius." He followed his godfather out to the lawn chairs, where some drinks were waiting for them. "What's this?"

"Grade-A Kracken McDragonn's Liquid Courage," Sirius said with a grin. "It's customary for the…er…men in a young man's life to buy him a drink. Unfortunately with Big, Dark, and Snakey running about, we can't go to a pub. Anyway, drink up. I'm just fulfilling another one of my long-neglected godfatherly duties."

Harry snorted. "I doubt my dad's wondering why you were lounging about in Azkaban when you could have been 'godfathering' me."

"No…he's wondering if I managed to get laid while I was in there."

Harry laughed and took a sip of his drink. It made his nose burn and his teeth sting.

"Coincidentally," Sirius went on, shifting in his chair. "That's a good segue into what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Hmm?" Now Harry's nose, ears, and fingers were tingling. And he was starting to get a bad feeling about where this was going.

"Look…you're a man now. And I'm sure you've had…urges already. You probably haven't had a chance to act on them, what with the whole…You-Know-Who trying to kill you and all. But I want you to know that there's a right way and a wrong way to go about it…if you know what I mean."

Harry didn't, so he took a long sip of his drink and tried to ignore the purple spots that flashed in front of his eyes.

"When I was younger, I was…an intensely loving creature," Sirius explained slowly, as though choosing every word out of a vast mental dictionary. "I slept with half the girls in my year. After Hogwarts, I had a bunch of quick, easy glamorous jobs before I got tired of it and lived off the gold my uncle left me. Got me noticed by women. And I had some damn good nights in London, I'll tell you that."

Harry officially didn't want to be having the conversation they seemed to be having.

"Now though, I can't even remember their names. I used them. It was wrong, but I was young and stupid and had picked up the bad pureblood trait of treating women like walking fuck-sticks. Anyway, I went off the grid a few years before the war broke out in earnest. Had a relationship with an older woman. I'll never forget. Arabella Figg."

"WHAT?" Harry yelped, finding his voice. He wished he hadn't. The world began to spin.

Sirius stuck an arm out and pulled Harry up from where the younger man was slowly tipping over. "I'd been back to my parents. Trying to reconcile. It didn't work. I was in a bad place, but I knew there were Muggles and Squibs friendly with Dumbledore…."

~GD~

"_Morning, ma'am."_

"_Sirius Black, I believe?"_

"_Yes. I wrote to you."_

"_Indeed. Well, there's a place for you in the guest room. There's not too much work to be done around here, but I'll be glad for the help, still."_

_Sirius adjusted his bag on his shoulder and walked into the small cottage. He sat on the couch as she indicated it and looked around. Pictures of family and friends filled the shelves and tables. There was a small grey kitten walking around. He smiled and picked it up._

"_That's Earl, you're holding," she said, entering with tea again._

_Sirius chuckled. "I get it. Because he's grey. Earl Grey."_

"_My nephew thought it was clever. They've all moved up to Scotland now. Anyway, I'll leave breakfast for you tomorrow. Linens and things are all in your room. You can start on the garage roof whenever you're ready."_

"_Yes, ma'am."_

"_Enough with that. You may call me Bella, if you wish."_

"_Er…that's my cousin's name. We…don't get on."_

"_Well then, Arabella is just fine. We're going to be living together. No need for all the formality."_

_~GD~_

Harry's left eye was twitching. He'd forgotten how to speak, or he would've stopped it there.

"We went on in the normal way for weeks," Sirius said wistfully. "Got to know quite a lot about her, and her me. It…our exchanges started to be a bit more…charged, I guess you could say. Our gazes lingered. We found excuses to be in one another's company. She walked in on me in a towel a few times. Our touches stayed just a little longer than what people would call appropriate…. Surprisingly enough, the age difference never even crossed our minds. It just felt natural as we fell together."

This couldn't be happening. Harry began to chug as Sirius continued his story.

~GD~

_Mrs. Figg set the tea tray down and gave Sirius a long glance. "You need a haircut. Shirt off."_

"_I beg your pardon?"_

"_Your shirt, Sirius. I don't want to get shampoo and cut hair and all manner of things on your shirt."_

_Shrugging, Sirius snagged a biscuit and pulled his shirt over his head. He didn't fail to notice the way her eyes lingered on his chiseled frame. He sat down in the chair and let her fuss over him._

"_Where's Mr. Figg?" Sirius asked suddenly, in the middle of his shampooing._

"_Gone. Off chasing dragons or selling potions on the black market. Who knows these things?"_

"_Sorry."_

"_Don't be. I loved him once, and I have those memories, but time makes you strong."_

_~GD~_

"And horny, it would seem," Sirius said. "Best three months of my life, them. She knew a magic beyond anything wizards could come up with. And when our bodies were aligned in the positions of the Warlock Sutra—"

"SIRIUS!" Harry nearly bellowed. His glass was empty now. The lawn was purple, and he was pretty sure he could see goblins building snowmen over in the rose bushes. "Seriously, just…stop. I'm serious."

"No, I'm Sirius," his godfather said.

"Huh?"

"You said you were serious. I'm Sirius."

"I don't understand!" Harry wailed.

"Never mind. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes…in the end, she just needed to feel young again. She needed work done, but she also needed _work_ _done_, if you catch my meaning."

"Unfortunately," Harry sobbed.

"It was the first time I'd ever felt used. It was then I wised up. The point I'm trying to make in all of this, is…well, honestly I've kind of forgotten. Look. This war's going on, but don't…try to get in one last hurrah and end up using some poor lass. It's not fair. You should be…you know…be in some sort of working relationship. And you both should have… caught _feelings_ before you make a move like that. Understand?"

Harry nodded, which was too much movement on his part, because this time he did fall out of the chair.

Sirius hoisted him back up. "Right you are. Erm…you'll be alright in the morning. I'll make sure Molly has bacon sandwiches at the ready when you wake up. Which will probably be around two in the afternoon."

"Let's hope I forget this conversation."

"You want to do it again, sober this time?"

Harry's lip trembled.

"Right, all right…enough of that," Sirius said, patting him awkwardly. He hefted his godson to his feet and helped him (read: dragged him) across the yard. "I hope…you take this seriously once you get over the embarrassment."

Harry didn't answer. He was too busy watching Morgan le Fey go across the yard on the back of a unicorn, juggling fire balls.

Sirius grunted at Molly, Arthur and Tonks as he carried Harry past and up to his room. He dumped him on the bed. "Happy birthday, Harry James. I don't envy your hangover."

"That fairy's picking his nose, Sirius."

"Of course he is," Sirius said, giving Harry an affectionate tap on the chest before heading back downstairs.

~GD~

"How did it go?" Arthur asked.

"About as well as I'd expected. Didn't account for the fact that Harry is a lightweight."

"Just so long as you spoke with him," Molly said.

"Not to worry, Molly. If that talk didn't scare him off of sex for a good long while, nothing will."

"I'm sure Sirius has ensured that Harry will not get Ginny pregnant until _after_ the war's over," Tonks quipped. She dodged the dishtowel Molly tried to hit her with.

Arthur just shook his head and chuckled.


	2. Untitled

_1995. Harry has just been cleared of his charges._

"Where's Sirius?"

Harry looked around, enjoying the sudden freedom provided by the combined chanting of Fred, George and Ginny.

"Dunno. Feeding Buckbeak, maybe?" Hermione offered.

_He usually does that later_. Harry excused himself and started making his way up the stairs, the bitter feeling of that building attempting to numb his excitement. The boy opened the door to find Buckbeak, but no Sirius. Continuing his search, Harry was almost reaching his godfather's room when they found each other.

"Harry! What of the…"

"Cleared," he breathed. There was relief, and joy, and a flicker of something else Harry couldn't classify in the look Sirius gave him before he rushed to give the boy strong pats on his shoulders.

"Well, that saves me the trouble of breaking you out of Azkaban." Sirius let out that bark of his, putting an arm around Harry and leading him back. "If possible, I would like a detailed description of Fudge's face when he heard the good news."

Harry forgot Lucius Malfoy for a moment. Forgot about Dumbledore's sudden departure. Forgot his bloody scar. "It was brilliant! Dumbledore didn't give him a leg to stand on, Sirius… we had a witness' testimony – although Mrs. Figg and her slippers weren't _that_ reliable, she helped – and then Dumbledore all but accused the Ministry of sending the Dementors themselves!"

"Arabella was there?"

Harry frowned. _That_ was his question? "Yeah… Dumbledore took her to the Ministry himself. She described the attack and how she felt the Dementors."

"I see." Sirius then raised his head. "Hey, I can smell Molly's kitchen machinations; I don't always agree with the woman, but she can cook her way through most of our issues." He gave Harry a sly grin, giving him a fatherly shove towards the stairs. "Get downstairs and save me a seat on the table, I'll join you in a minute. And Harry?"

Harry stopped by the stairs, that jolt of happiness brought by their encounter somewhat fading. "Yeah?"

"Life was hard on Arabella Figg. I don't imagine she's particularly fond of 'returning' to the wizarding world; so let's be thankful she was there, right?"

"Um… sure, Sirius. I am. Thankful, I mean."

"Good. I'll just get a book I forgot and put it back in the library. Remember my seat!" he almost yelled, returning to his bedroom. Harry, still befuddled with Sirius' behaviour, slowly counted his steps down. _We really need to get him out of this house more…_

Sirius closed the bedroom door behind him and reached for one of the many random books now occupying his nightstand. _They provide boredom, and if I'm lucky, sleepiness_, he often told Remus, the proclaimed bookworm of the Fantastic Four. Well, _Fantastic Three and a Quarter of a Man…_

Memories flooded, and in that flood, his fingers reached for a set of crystal glass and bottle. Pouring himself a small dose, he brought the drink to his lips.

"Here's to you, brother. Great kid, that one. Tell Lily he'll break some hearts with her eyes."

He poured yet another dose. This time there was a strange smile accompanying his toast.

"And here's to you, _Doreen_. Merlin knows you deserve it…"

_1993. Harry just entered the Knight Bus._

The stocky dog emerges as the bus disappears. He's black as night; shadows detach from his frame almost as tendrils returning to the void.

_He's safe. Good Merlin, he's safe, James._

Sirius takes a good look down the street. The animal in him snarls "shelter" and "rest," and he knows he must obey. He has to find somewhere to lay low, steal some food and steel himself. There's a long way to Hogwarts and he took too many chances already – even for his standards - coming here. Close to his _mark_. Where he knew they'd wait for him. The irony of the situation comes out of his body in low, steady growls.

_Damn fools even warned the Muggles… I must be hitting all the right nerves._

It is then, while the Animagus indulges in a brief moment of animalistic ire, that it comes to him, slowly. Distant, but potent… a familiar signature; something… _someone_… he recognizes. It is covered in unpleasant odors of all kinds – at least several felines – but it _is_ there. Even his shapeshifted body can't help a frown. It's too strong now to ignore, too much of a coincidence to overlook.

Sirius weaves his way from garden to garden, treading where the street lights can't reach him, using bushes as camouflage when he can. The smell is stronger as he approaches a particularly dark house. The garden needs care and there are spots of peeling paint here and there, but at least one light is on. The black dog is panting heavily while he crosses the street and circles the house, looking for a possible way in.

He mind-wrestles with himself about the stupidity of what he's trying to do, and this costs him seconds of distraction that freeze his body when the kitchen lights are lit. A woman watches him from the window, first with evident apprehension; he stares right back, even though his brain is telling him to run. Time passes and faces change, but he's sure. He's _so_ sure.

The woman in the kitchen is Arabella Figg.

Arabella's eyes linger over her 'guest'. That first scare fades. Her head doesn't tilt, her breath is even and she doesn't seem to show any emotion. His ears detect several cats mewling near her, but she makes no sound. It feels like an hour passes before she moves away, turning off the lights.

_What the f…?_

His ears flip when the front door creaks open.

"Wipe your paws."

It's all that she says, her voice low and sad. Before the man has time to think, the dog moves, and the door closes behind him.

The return to human form is quick and erratic. Sirius isn't used to being scared with women, but Arabella's reaction to him… _she never knew I…_

He stands, but his frame isn't what it used to be. Sirius tries to breathe slowly, sizing up the woman in front of him. She doesn't even flinch, and the only sounds inside the house continue to be from animals.

"They're locked," she finally says. "Kneazles. Tufty noticed someone… _different_… in the neighborhood earlier today. They're all wired because of you."

"_Tufty_?" he mutters, dumbfounded.

For the first time, she manages what almost passes for a hollow smile. "The whole country looking for you; does it feel like a good time to argue cat names now, Sirius Black?"

_So she knew… but how?_

Arabella doesn't wait for conversation to follow. Instead, she moves past him and into the living room, her slippers dragging along. Sirius takes several long breaths before following. She takes a large chair and leaves the couch for him. The smell is almost toxic, but his body welcomes the much needed rest immediately. Their silence however proves to be unbearable after a while.

"How did you know it was me?"

"Your eyes." She distracts her fingers with a cat figurine. "When you were a dog they looked pretty much the same as they used to. Not as much now that you are… well, _you_. I also happen to live close to Harry Potter, and some friends – well, more like _acquaintances_ – of mine have reason to believe you have unfinished business with that boy. They asked – well, told me – to keep an eye for a mad assassin."

Her tone is so detached that Sirius has a hard time knowing if she's being ironic or merely dishing out data…

"And I _knew_ you were an Animagus. "

_That, I remember._

"You seem impressed," she almost asks, no longer staring at the figurine.

"I am." _She is frank. No reason why I shouldn't be._

"Well, most people will tell you I'm crazy nowadays. I can't blame them: breeding Kneazles isn't a popular profession. But I am not stupid, Sirius."

"You never were."

"That's debatable." She snorts, muttering something to herself. "One could call this harboring a fugitive."

"Well… that leads me to the next obvious question."

Arabella sighs. "If you were the crazed monster they say you are, Sirius, you would have jumped through that kitchen window, fangs and claws out, and killed me."

Sirius blinks heavily. _She almost seems sad that I didn't._ "Then… you don't believe…"

"I saw you with James Potter several times. You and your friends at all those Order meetings. Even if Imperiused, I don't reckon you wouldn't have been able to betray him. There was too much heart between you."

_Damn memories._

_1981. Before 'The Betrayal' and Sirius' imprisonment._

It's one of those inexplicable things. An Order meeting late at night, a secluded bar none of them will ever enter again. Young men listen to older men, and all he can do is nod, eyes fixed on the forty-something woman by the end of the counter. She's not exotic; she's… unavoidable. Men stare, but she never stares back.

He sees the ring on her finger; it doesn't matter to him. Love is what James and Lily found, and he has no illusions of finding something similar. "Someone has to keep them entertained, James," he'd say, and he'd be called a whore, and they'd laugh and move on to other subjects.

By the time the meeting is over he sits next to her. She doesn't give him an opening, and he doesn't ask for one; there's silence and good bourbon, and through these days, even that's hard to come by.

"You should go home, _boy_," she finally tells him, her voice deep and sure of herself.

"We _both_ should."

"Classy." She downs her drink with a smirk. "I'm sure that usually works."

"I wouldn't know. It's the first time I try it, really."

"So men don't even bother sugar coating their lies anymore? Shocking."

She looks at him, half of a smile, and Sirius feels challenged. They both know it's ridiculous. That it can't mean anything, that this is no love story budding in the middle of a war. His easy grin telegraphs that he's not interested in anything but her body. She _really_has no plans of abandoning her husband for a one-night stand.

Of course, that also doesn't stop either of them from doing what they do in the alley. He's not gentle, and she controls him like a dog on a leash (and although Sirius will never admit it, it is one of the perks of screwing older women). It's a mistake, it's a horrible mistake.

And they will continue do make it through the next weeks. His hideouts. A hotel. The piano in her living room. She's bored, and he's young; it's perfect math.

It starts almost as a game one day.

"Doreen," she breathes, after he rolls to her side, completely exhausted.

"Doreen?"

"My middle name. It's Doreen."

"Why are you telling me this?" he demands. Her bare shoulders shrug, sweat glimmering on her skin.

"Why not? We act as strangers everywhere else."

_Why not indeed._

"I learned to whistle two years ago," he grunts. She laughs and climbs on top of him.

"Sounds terrible."

It goes to the point where they're almost out of information to trade. And then…

"I am an Animagus. Unregistered."

They are laying sideways, facing each other. She always knew when he was lying, and this time he wasn't.

"Why are _you_ telling me this?"

It's his shrug, now. "Why not? Who would you tell? _Why_ would you tell?"

She eyes the mattress, and nods. A playful smirk, that juvenile one she saves for him once or twice, appears on her face.

"So what kind of animal?"

He captures her lips and makes his down her body. Question time is over.

"Why the long faces?" he asks, throwing his coat over the table.

"It's Figg." Remus has that tired look on his face. "They got him, Sirius."

_Him?_ That second of surprise vanishes and he remembers Arabella is, in fact, married. _Was_ married. He knows there's conversation around him, but can't focus on it.

"We can continue to use his properties, Arabella is okay with it; but she's out of the Order for a while. Says she needs a break."

"Can't blame her; she always looked out of place here. Reckon being a part of this world and not _actively_ participating… well, you know what they say about Squibs, they never really _belong_…"

"Peter, her husband just died."

"You're right. You're right… sorry."

He doesn't run out the door looking for her. He pays attention to the meeting, grabs his coat and moves on with his life. Sirius learns that she'll maintain her husband's surname, and takes that as a hint that it is over. It was never meant to last. And it isn't long before The Betrayal, and after that, well… if you're not Peter Pettigrew, Harry Potter, or vengeance, you don't belong anywhere inside Sirius Black's mind.

It never happened.

_1993. Arabella Doreen Figg's residence._

Sirius can't help but stare. _Where did the Arabella Figg I knew go?_ This woman before him… well, he knew a good look in the mirror would tell him he, too, was not the strong, stupid boy he was back then.

"I didn't know what to do." It's all he manages to say. It sounds croaked coming out of his mouth.

Arabella waves her hand. "No one did. You weren't my first mistake, Sirius. Don't feel like you have a cross to bear because of who I am, or what I look like now."

"You don't…"

"I do." She eyes him. "I was not a good wife. My husband died an honest man, and I suddenly had no one to apologize to. My sins were still with me, though. They always will be."

"So I left. I help if I can, and how I can. I owe it to Daniel and his fight for a better world. But it's not my world anymore."

She stands up, raising her hand to stop Sirius from doing the same.

"Rest. I don't have much food that's suitable for humans in the house, but take what you want. Make sure you get some sleep, it's a long journey. But by the time I wake up, I expect you to be gone. Are we clear?"

Sirius is left speechless. He can only nod, forcing some of his old conviction back into his eyes.

"Keep that boy safe, Sirius Black. And try not to get yourself killed doing so."

"I'll try."

She nods, giving him a thin smile and placing a hand on his shoulder before turning around. She's almost opening her bedroom door when he whispers:

"Doreen."

Her cats are silent, as if they wanted her to hear. She comes back. He's a shadow of the man he used to be. In a sense, they are echoes, she thinks; deformed doppelgangers.

"It's been a while since someone called me that," she says, leaning weakly against the door frame.

"It's a beautiful name; suits a beautiful woman."

She shakes her head, a mock reproving laughter following.

"Always a charmer. Good night, Sirius."

"Good night, Doreen."


End file.
